


Practice Makes Perfect

by MarbleAide



Category: DCU (Comics), Teen Titans (Comics), Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: Asexual Character, Coming Out, Friendship, M/M, Practice Kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-03
Updated: 2015-05-03
Packaged: 2018-03-28 21:22:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3870211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarbleAide/pseuds/MarbleAide
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tim comes up with the terrible idea of practicing kissing with Bart.</p><p>It is a bad idea, but good things come from it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Practice Makes Perfect

**Author's Note:**

> I'm really proud of this story, even if it was only supposed to be about 1k long. It's all based around the headcanon I have of Tim and Bart practicing kissing together in every AU/Timeline I can think of. Also, it contains my headcanon for Bart's sexuality because I just love him, okay? Okay. 
> 
> This takes places in a weird comic/tv combo storyline world. Mostly follows comic book timeline, but it's still different.

“Kiss?” Bart curls his nose at the very mention of the word, making a face. “Why would I want to kiss anyone?”

Tim is both embarrassed and baffled by this—embarrassed because he was the one who suggested this entire thing and right now his domino mask was certainly not big enough to hide the blush spreading quickly over his cheeks. Baffled because did Bart honestly not think about that sort of stuff? Sure, Tim knew he had the whole strange aging thing happening, but he had to think of it at some point…right?

“Well, I mean. It’s what people do. Or—I guess what they’re expected to do?” Honestly, he has no idea what he's trying to say and is heavily regretting bringing it up at all. But they were friends and around the same age and it wasn’t like Tim was about to go start asking Bruce or Dick about this sort of stuff. He figured that would end up ten times worse than with Bart. Maybe.

Bart still looks a bit disgusted by the entire idea. “What if I don’t want to kiss anyone?” He asks, looking away from Tim out towards the city, his feet swinging back and forth over the edge of the building they're sitting on.

Bart showed up about half an hour ago where Tim was perched taking a break from his vigilante duties. The night was quiet, there wasn’t much happening and the batsignal hadn’t been used yet. He should have told Bart to leave, he knew Batman didn’t like other heroes in his city, but it wasn’t like Bart was going to listen anyway. Besides, Tim did enjoy his company. They didn’t get to hang out enough just the two of them and this was nice even if it was still in costume.

“Have you ever kissed anyone?” Tim counters quickly, trying to defend his own reasoning for asking in the first place. It’s a weak attempt, he knows, but it’s something that throws Bart for a loop instead, his eyes going owlish.

“No,” Bart finally gets out, pouting softly right before he glares at Tim. “Have you?”

Just like that, Tim’s back to being embarrassed by this whole thing. “Well—no, I mean. Not technically. Not like, important kissing. You know?” He’s red faced and stumbling over his words, trying to make them sound good.

Bart blinks at him. “What’s important kissing?”

“You know,” Tim waved a gloved hand in a frantic motion that is supposed to mean something, fill in the words, but it’s obvious Bart isn’t getting it. Hell, Tim isn’t even getting it. “Like, with someone important. Someone you actually like and—and want to kiss.”

“Andyouwanttokiss _me?_ ” The curl is once more at Bart’s nose, which Tim is just a little offended by because hey—what’s wrong if Tim did want to kiss him, hu? There’s nothing wrong with him! And besides, it wasn’t even like that!

“No—not, I mean…” Tim sighs, rubbing a hand over his eyes because it feels just as hopeless as it is. “It’s just practice for the real thing! Like, when you do meet someone important and you do want to kiss them you’ll know how to do it properly already and it won’t be awkward. I’m just saying we could practice with each other.”

This time around, Bart’s silent for a really long time. Long enough that Tim thinks he might get lucky and Bart will leave without saying anything else, hoping they could forget this entire mess and move on with something else. Anything else.

“Okay.”

Tim coughs, forced and awkward as he turns towards Bart who’s not looking at him, instead looking down at Gotham, at the city lights and buildings beyond.

“Okay?”

“Yeah, okay.” Bart turns to look at him now, face softer than before, but serious. “You can kiss me and we can practice.”

Coming out of his mouth, with Tim hearing it said like that, it sounds stupid and childish and they’re both passed this, right? This is the sort of thing that happens at sleep away summer camps when you’re ten and this scenario is nothing like that. Because they’re both teenagers now, both wearing super hero costumes, both sitting up on a high rise building instead of hiding under the sheets of an old bunk bed with mosquitoes buzzing outside.

Tim doesn’t have much time to think about it and say no, forget it, before they’re both sort of moving closer to face each other, leaning in—

“Ow!” They both say at the same time, moving back away from each other a moment later. They had both been idiots and closed their eyes, ended up nowhere near each other’s mouths, with Tim’s cheek knocking hard into Bart’s goggles.

“Jeez, come on—“

“You’ve gotta’ move your goggles, they’re too big.” Tim remarks, rubbing his cheek and trying to not remind himself this was a bad, bad, idea.

“No way, someone could—“

“We’re fifty stories up, no one’s gonna see. It’ll be for a second.”

“Remove your mask then!”

“My mask is stuck on with glue, you just have to move your goggles up.”

“Ugh,” Bart sighs with a roll of his eyes. “Fine, fine, but don’t miss this time.”

Tim rolls his eyes as well, as if he was the only one that missed, but he doesn’t say that as Bart shifts the amber lenses up and they both reposition to try again.

This time around, when they lean forward, their lips do meet. It’s not mind blowing. It’s awkward, as Tim could only guess, and he can tell Bart’s lips are slightly chapped from all his super speed running. His probably aren’t any better with wind burn. Both of them have no idea what they’re doing, so it’s just a strange press of lips against lips with only a few shifts of movement that Tim knows isn’t exactly right, knows it’s weird and lame and it only lasts for about thirty seconds before Bart is pulling away with a very confused expression on his face.

“That was weird,” He says, eyes locked onto Tim’s lips. “Are we doing it right?” He presses the tips of his fingers to his own, as if trying to figure out if something should be different there, feel different, whatever.

“Well, normally there’s more movement and I think it might be better if we tilt our heads a little bit.” Tim’s just finished explaining when Bart decides to kiss him again, the angle a little better this time around as their lips press together more firmly, but the weird little movements Bart’s making aren’t working at all.

The speedster makes a distressed noise before pulling away this time, shaking his head.

“No, Idon’tlikeit, this is dumb, kissing is just weird.” He looks frazzled and slightly red as he keeps shaking his head and quickly pulls his goggles back down over his eyes. “Reallyreallyweird.”

Tim realizes what Bart’s doing a second too late, his mouth only half open to protest before Bart has disappeared in an upturn of wind that sweeps Tim’s hair to one side. He’s gone, a blur out of the city to wherever else he’s decided to run off to.

—

Tim doesn’t see Bart until about two weeks later. This time around, they’re not in costume. In fact, Tim’s sitting in his bedroom doing homework when suddenly Bart’s right behind him.

“Holy shi—“

“I want to try again.”

Bart’s in his face as Tim tries to stop his heart from being so fast, the edge of his desk digging into his back as he stares up at Bart with wide eyes.

“What?” He asks, still startled, “What—Bart, what are you—“

“Kissing. I want to try again.” He states this all matter-of-factly with his hands on his hips, completely serious which is weird to see on Bart. There’s no joke in his voice, no doubt, just a straight forward this-is-what-I-want sort of thing that scares Tim, mostly because when Bart’s got his mind set on something, really set, he doesn’t get distracted from it all that easily. Well, okay, he does, but he’ll come back to it eventually.

“You want to practice kissing again? Now?” Tim asks, easing away from his desk. What he should be asking is why Bart thought it was smart, or important, enough to come find him in his house with his dad right downstairs. It’s not like Tim could explain Bart very easily.

“Yes. Now. I’ve been doing research.”

“Research?”

Bart’s grabbed his hand now, dragging him from his computer chair to his bed to plop Tim onto his bed, pressing him down against the unmade sheets.

“Yeah, research. I’ve been watching a lot of movies, you know, figuring it out.”

Tim thinks of the position he’s in right now, thinks of what Bart might have found, might have stumbled upon, and blushes quickly red. “What sort of movies?”

Bart pauses for a moment above him, arms at either side of Tim’s shoulders. He’s staring, head tilted to the side as he tries to figure out what Tim might be thinking about, but comes up blank. “Romance movies? All those bad romantic comedies—there’s a lot of kissing in those. And they always look happy when they’re doing it, like they’re enjoying it. There’s always like…soft rain or something playing. Music. I don’t know. It looked nice, I guess, so I watched a lot of them trying to figure out what we were missing.”

There’s a whole lot Tim can think of that they’re missing compared to the movies—a script for one, perfect lighting, love, a typical heterosexual couple—

But none of that seems to matter to Bart as he leans down to kiss Tim for the third time. It’s firmer this time, more certain without the edge of hesitation from before. It’s…something like right, Tim figures. Bart’s lips are softer this time around, which he wonders if he’d been using chapstick to help with that and nearly feels bad that he didn’t put forth the same efforts.

Bart’s hands are at his shoulders, squeezing gently. Tim figures he can put in a little bit more too and gently pulls his hands up and around Bart’s back in a light embrace. It’s apparently the right thing to do as Bart presses against him a little harder, tilts his head another half inch to the left, and Tim has about half a second to think _‘oh god!_ ’ before Bart parts his lips and swipes his tongue against the seam of Tim’s lips.

Tim can’t help it as he lets out a little sound of surprise and mixed pleasure, tensing against Bart before he’s relaxing again and, after a thought, opens his mouth to let Bart in.

This part gets a little strange now, because he can tell Bart is starting to get into territory that he didn’t really plan enough for and his hesitation is evident. Tim tries to ease him into it, fingers curling against his shirt and silently say that he’s okay, that this is fine, but as soon as Tim gets up the courage to get his own tongue involved, sweep it against Bart’s own, the speedster is pulling away faster than Tim can blink.

“Nononotgood,” Bart’s muttering to himself five feet away from Tim, wiping at his mouth and looking slightly terrifying.

“Hey, hey, Bart. That was—it was fine, you did—you were good.” Tim tries to reassure him, calm him down, because it was, really, it was very likely the best kiss he’s ever had and his body is very aware of that right now.

“No!” Bart glares at him, nearly shouts. “No, it—it’s _weird_.” The word is hissed out in anger and Bart’s glaring at the floor looking more upset then Tim realized he was, his eyes were shiny and wet.

“Bart?”

Bart doesn’t say anything else, just leaves at the super speed he came and Tim’s left alone in his bedroom once more feeling slightly guilty for one reason or another.

—

Tim doesn’t ask about it ever, doesn’t bring it up, and it seems like all is forgotten a few months later. In that time they meet Kon and they form their own little team of sort-of saving the day and playing video games and eating pizza. It’s nice, but Tim’s staring at Kon a lot and Kon doesn’t stare back ever and it’s only a little bit depressing, but Tim can deal with that. Tim can deal with anything.

Between them, Bart and Tim, nothing changes. It’s honestly like their practice sessions never happened, even though Tim remembers them full well as Bart still holds the position of his best kiss. Not that he likes Bart like that, honestly, it’s just…it was a good kiss until he freaked out and ran off.

He never admits to it being his favorite kiss so far. Doesn’t admit to a lot of stuff, especially the stuff that he’s just now trying to admit to himself.

But, he realizes, that Bart’s safe. Bart’s some sort of strange entity that he can hold on to and trust because of some stupid kiss or two on a room top or in his bedroom that are private, secret things that neither of them have even talked about since.

Over the years, Tim has learned that some of the greatest courage comes at the strangest moments and, right now that statement holds true.

Kon’s in Metropolis somewhere, probably, while Tim and Bart are in their little HQ beating each other up in a video game. It’s intense competition, as usual, and halfway through the third round when Tim starts to get the upper hand, Bart’s character health edging towards red, it hits him.

He pauses the game, much to Bart’s displeasure as he shouts out a ‘HEY!’ and shoots Tim a hard glare.

“I was just about to kick your ass!”

Tim doesn’t reply, just stares at the screen before looking down at the controller in his hands, fiddling with the buttons and joystick for a moment, keeping his breathing even before finally managing to get the words out through the lump in his throat.

“I’m—I’m ah…I’m gay.”

The irritation instantly leaves Bart’s face as he stares right at Tim who’s not meeting his eye at all.

“Yeah?”

Tim breathes out, nods. “Yeah.”

His stomach hurts and he feels like he’s going to be sick, because Bart’s still looking at him, staring, amber eyes burning into the side of his head, he can feel them and nearly gasps when Bart finally turns away to stare at his own controller.

“Yeah. I’m, uh, I’m…asexual, I think?” That’s not exactly what Tim was expecting from all this, which means it’s his turn to look and stare and be surprised. “Well,” Bart continues, unfazed by Tim’s gaze. “I don’t know, I’ve read some stuff and watched some stuff and it sounds right? I guess?”

“You guess?”

“Yeah,” Bart says, finally turning to meet Tim’s eyes and it’s this weird moment of things clicking in place, making sense. “I’ve just never felt…”

His voice trails off, but he doesn’t need to complete the thought for Tim to get it. It would sort of make sense with their few shared kisses and just, in general, how Bart is.

“Okay,” He nods, turns his eyes back to the screen, but doesn’t unpause the game just yet.

The room falls silent for a moment, two.

Bart breaks it, whispers, “Is it Kon?” and Tim’s gut rolls.

“Yeah,” He swallows, thick and heavy. “Yeah it…”

Another silent pause, Bart nods.

“Yeah. Sorry.”

Tim sighs. “Me too.”

And then he pushes the pause button and they get back to their game.

—

It’s another year before they have a similar conversation. They’re on a different team now and Bart’s got a different costume and a different name, but he’s still just Bart to Tim when it really matters. Being on the Teen Titans is nice because they’re a real team with a real legacy and save the world from bad guys without getting the left over scraps.

It’s been a long weekend for everyone, as it happens when robot aliens attack, but it keeps them all busy. It’s technically Monday by the time everything’s said and done and most of the city isn’t on fire—ninety percent of the team crashes right after, with Gar not even making it to his room before he’s asleep on the couch. Tim fends off sleep for the time being, however, stalking up to the infirmary  because his shoulder is killing him, knows he needs to at the very least wrap and ice it down before he can even think about sleeping. Just one of the cons of being the only average-human on the team, but he’s gotten used to it at this point.

By the time he gets his armor unlocked, top of his uniform off his shoulders with a slight hiss, Bart’s appeared at his side. Tim gasps softly as he puts the ice pack on his skin.

“Hi,”

“Hi,” Tim repeats, relaxing into the cold kiss on his shoulder, the burn of it sending pleasant little sparks of pain down his back. He has no idea why Bart is here or what he wants, but then again that is how most of these situations happen.

“So, I’ve figured it out more,” Bart sounds a little nervous and Tim raises a brow, not knowing what he’s talking about, trying to rack his brain for the past few conversations they’ve had. Tim says nothing, so Bart licks his lips and continues. “I’m pretty much gray-asexual and demiromantic?”

Oh.

Tim blinks.

“Like, sex is…weird. Really weird. Don’t know if I ever actually want that, but the romance stuff is good. Except kissing, sometimes. It’s just…messy, you know?”

Honestly, Tim doesn’t really, but he can push his own opinions aside enough to get what Bart’s trying to tell him, trying to admit, and he wonders when each of them became such a safe zone with these sort of things for each other. It’s comforting, actually, knowing Bart can trust him and Tim can trust Bart and by now either of them could say nearly anything and the other would just nod, accept it, accept them, move on.

So, Tim does mostly just that. Nods his head and says “Yeah, I get it, no big deal.” To which Bart smiles at him and hops up on the counter to just sit with Tim for a bit while he wraps compression tape around his arm. It’s quiet and comfortable in the dim lighting of the infirmary, the rest of the tower quiet and asleep beyond.

Of course, with Bart, that doesn’t last long.

“So…you’re still…?”

The question hangs near heavy in the air and Tim knows exactly what Bart is asking.

“Yeah,”

“And Kon?”

Tim’s movements stop, his breathing catches if only for a second before he’s fixing the tape and nodding his head.

Kon’s dating Cassie which is fine, honestly, they’re good for each other and happy and two of Tim’s best friends. He’d never get in the way of that, never even try, but still, still…

Bart nods too, his head turning down.

“Sorry,” he says in the same way he did last time an entire year before. Bart means it, really, and it’s actually nice, because Bart he knows, just wants his friends to be happy, smiling, to for once feel as care free as he does sometimes.

Tim feels a gust of air around him, looks up as he’s finishing up with his arm to see Bart standing right in front of him same height, costume gone in place of pajamas. He leans forward to brush a soft kiss against Tim’s mouth. His lips are even softer then last time and Tim can’t help but smile softly at that, thinks he probably still uses chapstick to keep them from cracking when he runs.

The kiss is innocent, completely, but it means a lot because he knows how Bart feels about them, how last time they did this he had freaked out, pulled away like he’d been shocked and disappeared into the night as only a speedster could. It doesn’t go past a simple press, but there’s enough time for Tim to press into it, just a little, before Bart is pulling back. It really means a whole lot.

“Thanks,” Tim manages to smile again and earns one in return before Bart helps him clean up and they both go upstairs to finally sleep.

—

The world nearly falls apart.

Kon dies.

Tim’s world does fall apart.

He wonders if Kon ever knew. He wonders if there was ever a chance.

But he tries not to think on it too long. Tries and fails time and time again. Changes his costume. Reads up on genetics, cloning. Tries to changes a lot of things.

The world does fall apart. So does Tim.

—

The first time Bart meets Jaime he saves his life—or so Bart says. Jaime says he had the situation under control and they bicker back and forth about it for a while. The only reason they don’t continue for the entirely of the day is because Jaime doesn’t immediately take up the offer of being a Titan with them—flying off soon after the battle is over.

Two weeks later and another three run ins, Jaime does finally agree to become a trial-run Teen Titan. Most of that consists of sitting in the common room and playing videos games as, the weekend following, there’s no crisis that needs their attention.

It’s pretty close to an instant friendship, almost like how Bart was with Tim and Kon, except this is just easy getting along instead of Bart annoying them for hours with his chatter, refusing to leave them alone until a friendship formed. With Jaime, it just felt easy.

They enjoy the same snack foods and have a competitive nature with each other that branches out from video games to the battle field. Jaime only laughs at Bart’s jokes when he actually finds them funny instead of pretending—Bart really likes that. Appreciates it greatly, because he can tell that people fake it sometimes.

Over the months that follow, Bart hangs out with him more. It helps, with Tim being distant, and everything else that’s happened with the last year making it hard to just be…happy around everyone again. Jaime’s a new face, refreshing, and Bart can’t help his instant like.

They spend hours together—at the tower, Bart’s place, Jaime’s place. Bart meets Jaime’s parents and his sister, who’s very critical at first, but quickly warms up to him. Bart introduces Jaime to every member of the Speed Force family and keeps laughing at how awestruck Jaime is by it all. They even go to the Flash museum just because Bart wants to show off and Jaime keeps yawning mockingly at it all. They have to leave when they start getting into an elbow fight that turns into a scene.

It’s seven months after they become friends that it actually hits Bart. The realization of it hits him like a freight train, but he also knows this has been growing for a while now, he just never knew how to put it into words.

That is, until a building falls on Jaime and Bart is picking through the rubble of it, frantic. Of course, it takes death, or rather near-death, and Bart wants to tear his own heart out the way it is beating too quickly in his chest, far quicker than even he would like to admit.

By the time he finds blue and black under all the gray and brick and iron, Bart’s about ready to cry. For a second, Jaime isn’t moving, isn’t breathing, and then he’s suddenly gasping, coughing, his entire body jerking with the movement of getting air in and out of his lungs. Bart doesn’t help any, throwing himself down on Jaime to squeeze him tight and press against him.

“S-shit, B-Bart—“

“No, shut up. If you pull something like that again I’m going to kill you!” Bart hisses, pulling back only so Jaime can see how serious he is about this, how there’s tears in his eyes and Jaime needs to promise him this.

All Jaime does is laugh, the sound stunted with small bouts of coughing, but it’s the best sound Bart’s heard in all his life.

—

Their first date—officially—is at an old movie theater in El Paso that sells bags of popcorn for a dollar, so they get ten and spend most of the time trying to throw it into each other’s mouths or down the other’s shirt. After, Jaime feels bad about the mess they made, so Bart does a quick look around before cleaning it up.

They walk around for a while, because Bart can just walk with Jaime. Walk without it feeling like there’s a horrible itch under his skin, keeping perfect pace with the other boy, humming to himself when their fingers interlace between them. A moment later, Jaime’s stopping, which makes Bart stop too.

Under the streetlights of El Paso, Jaime leans forward and captures Bart in a kiss. It’s the first one he’s ever had with someone besides Tim, but it’s nothing like those. His body is tense for only a moment in the anticipation of ‘no’, but this doesn’t feel like that, it feels…right. Good. Like static lightening at his mouth in a way that Bart’s never felt before.

He’s happy when Jaime doesn’t press any further, happy when Jaime pulls away so Bart can just stare up into his eyes and smile, goofy, feeling Jaime’s thumb brushing over his knuckles.

Bart’s heart swells.

—

After their third date and fourth kiss, Bart explains to Jaime what he’s comfortable with, what he’s not comfortable with, and the entire time Jaime listens intently, nodding when he needs to and asking questions when he’s curious about something. He’s supportive, kind, and never asks to push anything—never asks if they’ll ever have sex, or even go beyond kissing, and Jaime’s okay with all of it, squeezes Bart’s hand through it all as he realizes he’s one of only a few people Bart’s ever actually told all this to.

Bart never wants to let him go.

—

Tim’s alone and he’s used to it. It doesn’t bother him too much anymore. He thinks, at this point, he prefers it. Or at least prefers the perfect aloneness. There’s a difference he’s found when being lonely—that it’s even worse when you’re surrounded by people, that it makes him feel sick because he shouldn’t feel so alone, because there’s obviously people around him, people that care, but it’s just not the same.

But here, now, being on the other side of the world on a rooftop at night in a city that’s not his own, that doesn’t have friends or allies in it he is alone and that makes him feel more content. There’s no sick feeling. There’s nothing that makes him feel pressured to not feel alone, because he is and that’s okay and things just feel like they hurt less when he’s standing on the edge of a rooftop, the toe of his boots hovering only on air as the perfect degree more of pressure would send him over the edge.

He’s alone and he can breathe for the first time in days, months, _years—_

“Tim?”

Tim winces, head jerking with the sound of his own name spoken on another’s lips and he hates it, thought he was over this, over it all—

“Tim?”

He flinches and looks against better judgment. There’s a broad chest three feet away, covered in black and red, the sign of hope staring back at him. Tim can’t bring himself to look any further up, just stares for a second, two, before closing his eyes and letting his body fall backward off the rooftop.

“ _—TIM!_ ”

He’s only falling for a few seconds before, suddenly, he’s not and his body comes jerking to a stop in a hold that is too strong and too warm to be something other then what it is. Tim’s staring once more into that red ‘S’, his hands clutching at black fabric that doesn’t disappear when he blinks. The ability to breathe leaves him quickly, his vision blurring with tears.

“What the hell was that!?” Kon’s voice rings in his ears, loud and clear like the ghost of him never was.

“Kon?” Tim whispers, not caring about the question as he looks up beyond the t-shirt to look at Conner’s face, to see the cut of his jaw and the arch of his nose, the blue of his eyes that Tim had forgotten the shade of—they’re so much more summer sky instead of an ocean. They’re so much brighter then he remembers. They’re bright and blue and alive. They sparkle. They’re real.  “Kon,” Tim says again, voice broken as he cups Kon’s face in his hands and can’t help pulling his arms around him in a hug, burying his face into the crook of Conner’s shoulder. He smells like the ocean breeze and hay. Nothing like wet dirt and chemicals. Nothing like the nightmares and memories Tim grasped onto like straws.

Kon’s smiling when he pulls Tim away, still flying with him in his arms, hovering. “Hey, yeah, I’m…I’m back.”

Tim chokes on his sob as a laugh forms in his throat at the same time. “You’re back—you’re alive! Fuck you’re alive and I—I—Kon—“

“Hey,” Kon says, quieter this time, his hand coming to Tim’s chin, tilting his head up. “I’m sorry, Tim. For—“

“Don’t. You don’t have to—“

“No, but, I do.” Kon sighs. “I really, really, do.” He closes the space between them quickly before Tim’s able to get another word in, lips presses to Tim’s which makes Tim make a noise of surprised shock before he’s kissing back a moment later, hands curling in Kon’s short hair.

They pull apart with a gasp. Tim’s face is red hot and he’s panting. His entire being feels fuzzy around the edges, buzzing.

“I—I—“

“It’s okay,” Kon interrupts him again before he can manage to get a thought together. “You don’t have to say anything.” And, just like that, they're kissing again.

It’s the best Tim’s felt in a long, long, time.

—

They’re sitting on a rooftop and Tim’s not sure if it’s the same one, but it’s close. They’re both wearing different costumes, both go by different names, and both have grown a few inches since then, but their feet are still dangling out over Gotham and the world beyond.

“So…” Bart starts to break the silence, a smile wide across his face. “Wanna practice kissing?”

Tim snickers, if only a little bit, hiding the sound in his hand as he cups it over his mouth to hold it in while trying to hide the blush creeping up on his cheeks. “Low blow, Bart, low blow.”

Bart’s still smiling. “Well, it worked, didn’t it?”

And Tim—Tim has to give him that. It sort of did really work out.

“How are you and Jaime?”

Bart’s smile gets a little wider as he sits up straight and puffs up like a bird trying to impress a mate. “He’s gotten accepted into Met U—scholarships and everything. He starts in August. We’re going couch shopping next week.”

Tim makes a face, holding back his laughter. “Couch shopping?”

“Well—duh,” Bart rolls his eyes. “When I come to visit I’m not going to attempt to cuddle on uncomfortable dorm beds. We need the best couch around.”

Of course they do, and he’s sure whatever poor attendant at IKEA they are dealing with has a lot of patience and doesn’t mind Bart dragging Jaime on top of every single one of them to try them out.

“What about you and Kon?” Bart asks, moments later. All Tim can do is smile at the question, at the emotions that burst inside his chest to swirl around along with the mental images of the night before and the various marks on his neck he’s hiding with makeup and his cowl.  He can feel himself blushing and, beside him, Bart’s smile grows all the wider. “Yeah?”

Tim nods. “Yeah.”

Bart punches him in the arm and laughs out into the night sky, a noise that is contagious enough that Tim soon does the same. It feels true and right for the first time in a long time everything’s good.

It’s really, really, good.


End file.
